Love Is a Poison Too
by Niphrehdil
Summary: Walt never even considered it. Getting rid of Jesse - taking full measures - was not an option. He'd rather poison hundred kids with the lily of the valley than let Jesse get hurt.


Jesse's hand feels warm in Walter's. Jesse is just radiating relief from the fact that Brock will be alright. Jesse is smiling. Jesse is okay. Jesse is alive.

Walter watches as Jesse leaves the rooftop.

Walter feels dead inside.

"_Everything I have done, I have done to protect this family!"_

That's what Walt keeps telling Skyler. And himself.

But his lies sound hollow even in his own head when he stares at the spot Jesse stood in just a minute ago.

"_It was most likely a flower called lily of the valley. Yeah, it's - it's, like, common. It's got these red berries on it that I guess taste sweet, and sometimes little kids eat them and wind up poisoning themselves, and that's it, nothing more."_

"_Nothing more."_

Walter can feel the guilt burning just below his skin, trying to crawl out, to rip his carefully-planted walls down.

Walt could have killed the kid. It was only because of some very good doctors that Brock didn't die.

Walt realizes that he wouldn't have cared if he did. He won.

He had won.

"_I'm not on anyone's radar."_

Nobody had any idea. Hank, Marie and Junior all thought he was selling air fresheners at the car wash.

Heisenberg was safe.

Walt feels empty but victorious. Jesse was _his_ now. Gus couldn't have him. Not anymore. Gus couldn't wrap him around his bony, long fingers. He hadn't been able to turn Jesse against him, no matter how hard he tried. And now Gus wouldn't even get a second chance at that.

Jesse was Walter's now, just like before. Jesse would do what Walt told him to. Walt had his loyalty. His trust. He had all of Jesse, like he used to. Like it was _right_.

Walt had once told Jesse that it wasn't supposed to go this far. How he had wished that the cancer had just finished the job. The perfect night to die.

_"I'm saying I've lived too long."_

It was the night Jane died…The night when Walt _let _her die. Because she couldn't have Jesse.

"_If I had just lived right up to that moment, and not one second more, that would have been perfect." _

Walt still thinks that. If he had died on that night, he wouldn't have to live with the endless guilt. Guilt over Jane's death. The air plane crash. Jane's dad. Gale. Hell, even Victor, the poor bastard.

Walt's hands were full of blood, and no bleach or chemical could wash that out.

Walt hated nothing more than the feeling of losing control. Of his own life, over Saul, over Gus. But worst of all, losing control of Jesse. That's why he had lost it that night at Jesses' house, that's why he had raised his hand and hurt Jesse.

"_Can you walk?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Then get the fuck out of here and never come back."_

The look in Jesses' eyes had hurt Walt more than the black eye, the fractured rib or the open skin on his broken face.

That's why he had drugged himself with painkillers and alcohol. That's why he couldn't have cared less about his own son's new sweet-sixteen-car. Or even Junior's birthday.

Because all that mattered was Jesse.

Jesse was gone. For a one, terrifying moment, Walt had thought that he had lost Jesse forever.

Walt hadn't cried properly in years. He had shed a tear or two, yes, but he had not broken down like this since college years.

And there, in front of Junior - his own son, he had cried like a baby. The salt from his tears had burnt his damaged skin, and he had muttered apologizies. Fighting Jesse had been the biggest mistake he had done. Ever.

Walter hadn't been able to think straight. He had been a mess. He couldn't get up from his bed.

Because Gus _couldn't_ have Jesse.

Walt might have even called Junior 'Jesse' accidentally. He wasn't sure. He didn't really care.

All that mattered was Jesse.

Walt had risked everything when he had let Jesse in his house a day later and let Jesse point a gun to his head. But not for one second had Walt believed Jesse would do it. Jesse wasn't a killer – no. He could kill if he was driven to a corner, but never cold-bloodedly.

Walt knew it was wrong. He abused Jesses' trust. He manipulated him. He used Jesse like a tool. Walt lied and killed and murdered if he had to. He poisoned an innocent kid. He tricked Jesse, used his vulnerabilities and weaknesses to make him act like Walt wanted. Walt ripped people and their lives apart on behalf of his own plans. Because they could _not_ have Jesse.

Walt couldn't exactly pin-point the difference between himself and Gus anymore. Jesse had been the main pawn of their power play. And when Walt says he won, he really means it.

He walked out of all of this, with Jesse by his side. And that was more of a victory than Hector Salamanca blowing up to bits and taking Gus Fring with him.

Somewhere deep inside, Walter's conscience is bleeding and weeping. Too many innocent people have died.

But he couldn't let Jesse go. He couldn't let Jane take him, nor the heroin. Nor Gus. Walt had eliminated every threat, one by one.

Walt didn't exactly know why. His body worked on instincts, like the night Jesse had been about to kill those two meth-dealers on the street. Or the day Jesse hadn't turned up to work and Mike had taken in for a ride. Both times, Walter had become murderous and reckless. Walt had risked everything to save Jesse, several times. Including his own life.

_Full measures._

That's what Mike had said about Jesse. That he should be wiped out of the picture.

Walt had never been able to negotiate about it. What could have been easier trick to make himself Gus' only cook again? To kill Jesse. Easy. Walt would have had numerous opportunities. And he would have never gotten caught because of it. Nobody would look twice at the death of a drug dealer and junkie.

Nonetheless, Walt never even considered it. It was not an option. He'd rather poison hundred kids with the poison from the lily of the valley than let Jesse get hurt.

Maybe it was almost sick, this protectiveness. This…possessiveness.

But maybe it also settled it - all the wrongs he had done to Jesse – to how many times Walt had saved Jesse's life. That was what Walt hoped, at least. He just had to convince himself.

"_We make poison to the people that don't care!" _Jesse had once said.

Jesse might have been a drug addict, but Walt was just as much of an addict too. He just wasn't addicted to meth, but something much more destructive and stronger.

So let them come. He could take it all. He wasn't scared of anything anymore. Walt was ready.

"_Everything I have done, I have done to protect this family!"_

Walt would always remember how Skyler's face looked like when he had told her that.

But what Skyler didn't know was the fact that for a long time now, Walt had counted Jesse in on that list.

Because they could take Walt's money, his reputation, his home. They could beat him, watch him bleed. They could trick and lie to him, but they would never, ever, take Jesse from him.

To the end of his days, Walt would make sure of that. He was an addict, after all. Love, in the end, was a poison too.


End file.
